Truce
by Shirl
Summary: [Jericho] Oneshot. Mimi and Bonnie find a moment of understanding. And Mimi and Stanley have their own little moment. This fic takes place directly after the Vox Populi episode. Told from Mimi's POV.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used in this Jericho fic. All rights belong to CBS.

A/N: My beta has not gotten back to me yet, but impatience is leading me to post this as-is. Unlike the characters, all errors belong to me. This is my first attempt at a Jericho fic. It is a one-shot, and I have no intent to continue it further – not unless some unexpected muse hits me, anyway. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Stanley paced.

Mimi knitted.

That's what the two of them had been doing for the past half hour. Her fingers manipulated the needles in a steady rhythm, and she was grateful her hands were kept busy; it prevented her from wringing Stanley's neck.

"Your pacing isn't helping," Mimi said.

Stanley ignored her, continuing his repetitive trek from one end of the room to the other. Mimi fell silent once more, lulled by the clicking of the needles. She wasn't even sure what she was making. Her hands seemed to be on automatic pilot, just like Stanley's legs. Most likely her finished product would be some shapeless, unidentifiable lump.

At the sound of the pickup truck drawing near, Mimi let out a breath. Tension eased out of her shoulders. "See? I told you she'd come home."

But Mimi was talking to an empty room. Stanley had already raced into the kitchen.

Mimi heard the front door open, and then Stanley's voice. "Where the hell have you been?"

She flinched. Even from thirty feet away, the volume of his voice was impressive. She looked up as Bonnie marched into the living room. The young girl's lips were turned down, face set in rigid displeasure. Her eyes flickered to Mimi.

Mimi stilled as Bonnie stared at her. The girl's widened eyes narrowed to brown slits. Before Mimi could say a word, the bundle of wool was snatched away from her. When she saw the younger woman draw back her arm, she braced herself.

But the slap never came.

"Hey!" Stanley barked. "What is wrong with you?" He'd grabbed his sister's arm, and now she wrenched herself out of his grasp.

Mimi sat back and watched them argue. They gesticulated with intense ferocity, each movement packed with emotion. Mesmerized, she wondered what Bonnie was saying about her. It couldn't be good.

Bonnie's final gesture before stomping upstairs was a vertically pointed middle finger.

Mimi almost laughed. She managed to cover it with a choked cough when Stanley sent her a killer look. "Real classy, Bonnie," Stanley said to the retreating figure. "Same to you!"

"Good comeback," Mimi said dryly. Stanley might be bigger and older than his sister, but it was debatable as to who was tougher.

He dropped down onto a chair, rubbing one palm across his face. "I don't know what's gotten into her," he mumbled.

"Of course you do," Mimi said, her tone brisk. "It's me. She can't stand me. Can't say I blame her."

Rising to her feet, she stretched a little, and then went to Stanley's hunched form. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his forehead against her stomach. She smoothed back his hair. "I should apologize to her. About the knitting, I mean."

"You don't have to."

Mimi shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe. But I want to. Regardless of what you may think, I do have a heart." She paused. "Sometimes."

At Bonnie's bedroom door, Mimi hesitated before knocking. It took her a moment to realize the futility of the act. Opening the door a couple of inches, she poked her nose inside. Bonnie was lying on the bed, curled on her side.

She had never been in Bonnie's room before. The pink frills and lace curtains surprised her; she'd considered Bonnie to be more of a tomboy. Since the girl couldn't directly see her, Mimi walked over to the side of the bed. Bonnie's head jerked up, and she swiped at her eyes.

Mimi had already spotted the glint of wetness. She raised her hand in a wave. "Hi."

"What do you want?"

Bonnie's mildly garbled voice sounded thicker through her tears. Mimi felt a rare pang of guilt. "I just wanted to apologize about your mother's knitting. Stanley thought it would be okay, but obviously it isn't. I didn't mean to be intrusive."

Mimi glanced away. She found Bonnie's steady gaze to be disconcerting. The girl had to read her lips, so she knew it was a necessity, but it still made her uncomfortable. "Anyway," she continued, "that's all I wanted to say. Sorry to bother you."

She took three steps before Bonnie's command stopped her.

"Wait."

Mimi turned around. Bonnie was now sitting up, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Her feet didn't quite touch the floor. She flexed one foot, bobbing it up and down. "It's fine," she said. "I don't really care about the knitting."

Mimi didn't hide her surprise. "You don't? I'm no expert at signing, but you seemed to make it pretty clear to Stanley that you cared."

"I did at first. But…um…maybe I was more upset that you can knit and I can't. My mother tried to teach me…" Bonnie's voice trailed off. Now it was her turn to look away.

Mimi could see that the girl was struggling with something. Experience told her this would be a good time to retreat. She'd never been adept at handling emotional scenes. "Well, that's good to know," she started to say.

Then Bonnie burst into tears.

Mimi froze. On the Richter scale of crises, this had now escalated to a ten. The flight response tugged at her; she tried to ignore it. "Uh, are you okay?" As soon as the question escaped her lips, she mentally groaned. _Brilliant. This is why I failed Psychology._

Bonnie covered her mouth with one hand, trying, but failing, to hold in her sobs. Her other hand clutched the quilted bedspread, crumpling the printed flowers.

"Do you want me to get Stanley?" Mimi asked hopefully.

The girl shook her head.

Mimi wasn't off the hook that easily. Though she feared she had no maternal instincts whatsoever, she forced herself to take a step forward. Eventually, she found herself sitting beside the crying girl with an arm around her shoulder. And what was more shocking than that? Bonnie actually leaned into her, seeming to take comfort in her presence.

After a long minute, the torrent of weeping slowed to a trickle. When Bonnie sniffled, Mimi reached over to the bedside table to grab a handful of tissues. Bonnie blew her nose, and Mimi regarded the girl's troubled, red-rimmed eyes. "This isn't about your mother, is it," she said.

Bonnie didn't reply.

It was just as well, since Mimi didn't want to pry. She knew the standard line went something like, 'I'm here if you want to talk', but that would invite further complications. It was better to end things now.

Yet again, Bonnie ruined the plan when she blurted out, "It's Sean."

Mimi withheld a sigh. "Who's Sean? Your boyfriend?" She didn't think Bonnie had a boyfriend.

Bonnie confirmed this with a vehement shake of her head. "No. He's a jerk."

"Oh," Mimi said in a knowing tone. "I know lots of those. So he did something stupid, huh?"

"He…he tried to…you know…"

Mimi could fill in those blanks with any number of possibilities, but from the anguish in Bonnie's eyes, only one made sense. "He tried to force you?"

Bonnie nodded.

Hot blood rushed to Mimi's face. Outrage made her speak sharply. "You said 'tried', so he didn't actually…?"

"No. I kicked him in a sensitive area." Bonnie issued a small smirk.

"Good. He deserved more than that, the bastard." Mimi stood up. "Your brother needs to know about this."

Bonnie yanked on her sleeve. "No! Stanley will kill him! You can't tell him."

Mimi opened her mouth to protest, but she realized Bonnie knew her brother well. "You're right. He'll go into redneck mode with that shotgun. Did I say that out loud?" She thought Bonnie would be offended by the remark, but it didn't seem to register with her.

"So you won't tell him?" Bonnie asked.

"No. The last thing we need is your brother in jail for murder." Mimi regarded her with a critical eye. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you otherwise?"

"I'm okay," Bonnie said. "I'm tougher than I look."

Mimi chuckled, and said, "I believe you. But no more running off like that. Stanley was really worried. And so was I."

The last statement slipped out before she could stop it. She gave Bonnie an awkward pat on the shoulder and tried to make a graceful exit.

She was almost at the door when she heard, "Mimi."

"Yeah?" she responded.

"Thank you."

Mimi's eyes connected with Bonnie – a moment of understanding. She imagined Bonnie was thanking her for several things. _Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder. Thank you for keeping this a secret from Stanley._

And most likely, Mimi thought wryly, _thank you for not being your usual bitchy self._

"You're welcome," Mimi replied.

She went downstairs and heard a gentle snoring. Stanley was passed out on the sofa. "Guess you wore yourself out with all that pacing," Mimi murmured. His boyish face looked peaceful in sleep. With a smile, she brushed his bangs to one side. His eyes fluttered open, and he yawned. "Sorry to wake you," she said.

"I wasn't sleeping."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. I suppose that noise I heard could have been a freight train rolling by, except I haven't seen one in…"

She squeaked in surprise when Stanley pulled her down on top of him. Giggling, she settled herself along his lean frame.

"How'd it go with Bonnie?" he asked.

"Good. I wouldn't say we're best friends, but I think we've called a truce." Mimi braced herself against his chest. "You know, I thought working in D.C. for so long squeezed every bit of niceness out of me, but maybe there's still a few drops left."

Stanley tucked a few strands of her dark hair over her ear. "I don't care that you're not nice."

"You don't?"

"No. You're sexy as hell. That's all that matters."

He grinned up at her, and she snorted with laughter. "But seriously," he said, "that's great if you're starting to make peace with her. That's important to me." He placed his hand above her left breast. "I always knew you had a heart. You keep it locked away pretty tightly, but I intend to find the key."

Mimi melted, just a little. She tried to reinforce her thawing defences. "You're sweet, but stupid. What are we doing, Stanley?"

He put his other hand on the nape of her neck, his eyes coming to rest on her lips. "Shut up and kiss me," he said.

Mimi didn't see any point in arguing with farm-boy. _Sweet, muscular, manly farm-boy._

So she did.


End file.
